The Empty Orchestra
by Psychochiquita
Summary: A Universe where Megamind is not only human, but a part of society (sort-of). The Channel 8 news team decide to spend a holiday night doing karaoke, but Roxanne would rather spend time elsewhere between her and one of her co-workers. Song-fic AU, Completed.
1. The Music Between Us

**Don't hate me.**

 **Actually, hate me. Hate me with the burn of a thousand suns, because I actually _enjoyed_ writing this, even though I hated myself for coming up with the concept.**

 **This was supposed to be a multi part for one shots inspired by/revolving around songs. But once I put it into the system it told me It had over 10K words.**

 **So I thought, "Well shit, have to break it up and make it it's own story." And I did.**

 **So this will be a two-part story around a _really_ out there AU where Megamind and Minion are not only humans, but a part of society. (somewhat).**

 **The Empty Orchestra.**  
 **Act I:**  
 **The Music Between Us.**

 **Words; 8,158**

* * *

It's a cold winter evening. Frigid, clammy, wet. There's scores of people on the streets through the weekend night celebrating the last of the holidays and one group in particular has been wandering through the downtown area for hours, hopping from building to building before settling on places that didn't turn them away from how drunk the lot of them looked.

The office co-workers stand under the neon sign of a gun firing, spelling out the name _Hunter's Pub_ as a few of them have another discussion ahead of the group while the rest stand idly around.

"I said no Wayne, he's had enough." calls a brunette coming in from the center, reaching out to grab a hold of two men heading towards the door of the bar.

"C'mon, Roxie, ol' Blue can handle himself for one more round, right Hamlet?" responds the heavy-set guy as he throws an arm around the shoulders of the smaller man, pulling him in with a not so gentle swing that made him queasier than he already was.

The group could see the color change on the smaller one's face and make a clearing for him to avoid anything that might come out of his mouth, as he struggles to get out of the dead man grip around his neck and cries out "For the last time, it's Am-" and he pauses, letting the gagging reflex subside because he's never actually puked in front of anyone other than his brother and he'll be damned if this would be the first, even if it is on holiday.

The brunette rushes forward to pry the small man out of the bigger one's tight grasp as she turns towards the stragglers at the back of the group, waving her hand frantically to call ahead the taller of the lot; "Menian!"

An olive skinned man, about the same size and build as Wayne, strolls forward to see what the commotion is about and notices Roxanne holding on to the shiny bald head of his smaller brother that is in the crook of Wayne's right arm. With slight irritation he calmly comes around to the other side of the large man and starts conversing with him, enough to distract him from releasing his locked grip on his brother to the relief of all three of them.

"You know Wayne, I think miss Ritchie is right. We should probably call it a night since it seems that most of us are pretty wiped out from the party." Menian adds as a defense to curve their drinking for the night. They had been out on what Wayne suggested would be an innocent Christmas office party for the channel eight news team, and by innocent he meant drinking and eating until someone threw up or passed out, or both, and by the news team he meant just himself.

Considering he's the lead anchor of the news station he always sought out any excuse to celebrate anything pertaining to himself, as well as always having the luck of getting what he wanted in life; a successful career, a sub-standard relationship with his more-than-well-off parents, and Roxanne. So long as life was nice and easy (and predictable), he was fine with just reading off the teleprompter.

"What? N-no no, we're just getting the night started, c'mon it's only-" he looks down to his watch, "-Seven-" "Ten to ten." Menian corrects to which Wayne speaks over him with a slight slur "-Ten to ten, I knew that. Look, if you want us to relax, we can always head to the karaoke bars in midtown and rent out a booth for all of us to take a breather. Sound good?" he says as he changes directions and starts walking back where they came from, leaving a forgotten Blue wheezing on the ground as the woman hovers over him and the group walks around them.

"Hey Roxie, you better catch up if you want first dibs on the song! And don't forget Collin!" Wayne calls out to the two left on the ground.

"His name is Amlin!" she yells, adding with restraint through gritted teeth, "And stop calling me that!"

Looking back down to help Amlin up by his arm, her hand encloses around his thin wrist easily.

"Thanks, Roxanne." he says, dusting off the snow that clings to his flannel coat and adjusting his beanie cap. "You'd think after twenty years he'd get it right." he mumbled.

"Hey, ten and he still can't remember not to use that nickname on me," she says.

She smiles at him before motioning with her head for them to try and catch up to the group that was on their way inside another building two blocks down.

Wayne looks around the group that's crammed themselves into the karaoke lobby and starts looking around through those who had decided to spend the night drinking with him, eyeing Henry in the front, their news director who runs the small station and practically owned it ever since the main investors had sold most of their shares to him stands at the head of the crowd in a cardigan, his mostly grey hair giving a dull shine in the fluorescent lighting.

Next to him is Judy, a middle aged brunette with the embodiment of a poster mother who hosts the morning talk show along with Brittney, a young blonde with a bubbly personality on air that usually does social and celebrity news segments.

Behind them he sees the other poof of blonde hair belonging to Miranda, who does her fair share of showmanship as the meteorologist. Standing next to Wayne himself at shoulder height is Rich, their sports reporter, in a suit that seems to be the only one he owns albeit the absurd selection of ties he comes into work with, every day a different one. He's jiggling the loose items in his pocket with the hand that is shoved inside, the other running over his slicked back raven hair.

Wayne nods his head towards the front of the lobby and nudges his co-worker with his elbow, giving a pointed look to a heavy set redhead standing nervously next to the group as he questions Rich, "Who's the guy in red?"

"Oh, it's that kid that works under Roxanne as her camera man. Uh, shit, forgot his name." Rich shifts his weight from one foot to the other, snapping his fingers in deep thought.

"Stephen. No, it's something with an "H", I think. Hank. Eh, Hal... Hal!" He slaps his hand across his thigh with a snap, an affirmation of remembering correctly.

"And who invited him?" Wayne asks, eyeing the front suspiciously.

"Invited himself. Overheard the girls talking about it over in the break room, took it as an open invite," Rich replies, suddenly interested in the dirt underneath one of his nails.

Wayne looks over to the front again just in time to see Roxanne walk into the lobby with Amlin on tow. He nudges his friend with his elbow again to interrupt with another question.

"I assume the handyman invited himself, as well?" he motions with his head towards the front, his perfect pompadour never straying a hair.

"Handyman? Dude, he's our tech operator. Runs the whole gallery himself, supposed to be a genius of some kind. Only reason we rarely see him is because he holes himself in there day in and out. No one even knows when he's there or not."

Rich looks up to Wayne with doubt. "He can also repair anything you throw at him, which is probably the only time you get to see him. How could you not know that? I mean he's been working with us just as long as Roxie and Menian have."

"I feel like an ass," Wayne grumbled, running a hand through his locks. "I can never get his name right and now that I think about it, if he is who I think he is, I owe him much more than just an apology."

Behind them at the counter, Menian started counting heads and is letting the receptionist know what size room they'll need for their group of ten. He's in the middle of talking and gathering their keys since they voted on drinking some more while spending the night at Wayne's apartment just two blocks away.

"Woo! Who's ready for more shots!" calls out Brittney, raising both of her fists in the air.

"Well shit," Roxanne breathes, stopping in her tracks on her way to the counter.

As the group is being led into one of the bar's bigger booths, Roxanne grabs a hold of Amlin's arm and pulls him out through the front door, looking back for a moment to meet Menian's eyes and give him a nod before heading back out into the cold.

"Wait, Ritchie, what are you, where are we going?" he asks with confusion.

"Somewhere safer for you, and less crowded for me." she replies as she pulls him by the wrist down the street. "Besides, it's been forever since only the two of us hung out together. Menian mentioned you guys live around here. Easy walk?"

He nods quickly and they make their way through the late night crowd towards his home.

Back inside the bar, everyone has just settled down and are looking through the various menus on the coffee table in the middle of the room, going through drinks and food while the other half was trying to figure out what to sing first. Since Menian had claimed himself to be the "responsible adult", he had stepped aside and is taking care to make sure everyone makes it back to Wayne's apartment in one piece by the end of the night.

"Why don't I start with _Blue Christmas_?" calls out Henry, making his way towards the computer at the end of the room situated on a small desk against the wall, the screen that stretches across the back showing a live feed of him searching for the song.

"That's a great idea, boss. Gives us more time to look over which ones we're gonna want to do next, right guys?" Wayne says, trying to get on the older man's good side as per usual. He scoots over on the couch he's sharing with Menian and gives his shoulder a nudge. "Hey Menian? Where'd they go?" he asks, thumbing towards the glass door that overlooks the lobby.

Menian gives a shrug, raising a pierced eyebrow for emphasis. Through the speakers Henry's deep voice croons out the first of Elvis' famous sad Christmas song.

 _~I'll have a blue,_

 _Christmas,_

 _without you...~_

* * *

Down a few blocks, Amlin and Roxanne are making their way through the streets towards his apartment. They walk in awkward silence as he tries to rack up the courage to thank her for saving him from further drinking holiday themed shots.

"H-hey, Ritchie?-" he manages to say before she interrupts.

"You don't have to thank me for anything,-" she cuts in, holding a hand out towards him to stop him from further talking. "-I was also saving myself. I can only be surrounded by the people I work with for so long."

She sees his eyes dart back and forth in confusion and she tries to clarify, "N-not that you or your brother are any bother, I love being around you guys, I would've preferred if it was just the three of us. You know it's been so long since we did anything together, I miss having you two over for lunch. When was the last time we did anything together?"

Amlin keeps his gaze down to his feet as he tries to recall himself. "I think, your birthday? We ended up taking over a genoise he made for you." he says, pronouncing the word _jeh-nwaz_ like Menian taught him.

"Oh man that cake!" Roxanne recollects with a dreamy look. "He's a great baker by the way, you gotta let him know those cookies he makes are amazing. I don't trust anyone with their home cooking as much as I do with him. Last time Judy tried to make anything she gave Wayne food poisoning with her artichoke dip. And on live tv!" she groans, her hands swinging and swaying with her talking, and Amlin can't help but share a laugh.

"Yeah, everyone kept spitting it out saying it tasted like vinegar, and the worst part is she didn't add any!" he adds, and they both bend over in laughter at the memory of the reel being played over and over again, showing Wayne trying to be considerate and eating the dip Judy had made and brought to the station, bringing it to the show inside a Tupperware container and handing out bites to the anchors to try and figure out what was wrong with it.

"Turns out she used pickled artichokes instead of canned, mandarin juice because she didn't have lemons, and she added celery salt with oregano to it because she didn't know what spices to use." Amlin added as he crouches lower and lower, to the point he's sitting on the frosted sidewalk with tears rolling down his cheeks, Roxanne leaning her weight into his shoulder for support from laughing so hard on one knee.

They slow their laughter and try to catch their breath as they look at each other for a moment, when suddenly Amlin yelps and shoots straight up to Roxanne's confusion before she ends up doing the same, gripping her wet knee.

The snow their bodies was resting on had melted, and the cold water is nipping at their skin underneath the soaked clothes. They pat at the wet spots, trying to brush off any clinging snow before making eye contact, and the both of them shout "It burns!" at the same time, drawing out more laughter and stares from passer-bys as they walk shoulder to shoulder back to his home.

* * *

A few of them clap awkwardly after Judy had finished her rendition of _Push it_ before the two blondes jump up from their shared seat and scramble to the front, One adjusting the microphones as the other types in their choice into the computer. Some from the group watch as the screen behind them starts scrolling through a list of artists starting with the letter "P".

The waitress is on her way out from bringing in another round of drinks along with a select choice of bar food from the menu on the table, most of which is slathered in yellow cheese, deep fried or served with several dipping sauces, to which all hands seem to be tearing apart before she can finish placing all the plates down.

Emptied out bottles of beer are grouped in numbers on the surrounding corner stands and drink glasses cluster on the coffee table that sits between the only two sofas in the room. Candy canes and chocolate coin foils are crammed into the candy dish that rests in the sea of shot glasses and used paper napkins.

Menian scans over the faces of his colleagues to determine their level of drunkenness and see if he has to cut off anyone just yet.

Henry and Judy are sitting to his right, talking over another possibility for a new segment for failed attempts at shared crafts and recipes that would be called " _What_ _not_ _to do_ ".

Across from him on the other sofa is Hal sitting on one end and Rich on the other. Between the both of them they had been trying to get the attention of Miranda and Brittney as the two were stuck sitting in between the guys, and they looked relieved when it was their turn to sing. He took note of that and is considering offering to switch seats with Wayne and himself so the four men would end up sharing the sofa instead.

As the sound of steel drums comes through the speakers at the end of the room, he looks over to his left to ask Wayne about his idea when he sees him gulping down another spritzer and placing in on the table next to three other empty glasses, and instead finds himself worrying if his brother's doing okay while miss Ritchie is watching over him.

~ _When you decided to knock on my door._

 _Did you remember what happened before?~_

* * *

"It's um, roomy, in here. Didn't expect anyone to live inside one of these warehouses." Roxanne admits as Amlin holds open the door to his home for her to walk in. He scratches the back of his head with nervousness as he shyly considers his explanation.

"Y-yeah. After moving out of our parents, we wanted to make a point that we could sustain ourselves at a very young age, but everywhere we looked we found it impossible to be able to rent a place out while trying to live off of low income. So we hopped from one efficiency to the next until we saved up enough to buy an abandoned lot, converting it to eventually fit our needs." he says, still rubbing the back of his neck as he looks around nervously.

She tries to make eye contact but is distracted by the expanse of the open room ahead of her. The front door leads in immediately to a rail hallway that oversees the whole of the warehouse slash home.

"We?" she asks, her eyes moving across the room as they step down the short stairs to the main room.

"Yeah. Menian and I live together." he says, motioning an offer to help her with her jacket.

An open kitchen takes a good half of the right wall, having an island as a bar that doubles to give the kitchen a division between it and the living area, and the rest of the wall being converted to a small dining area.

The middle room is also divided into two sections; one being a modest living room layout, a typical sofa sectioning off where the room ends and what seems to be a workshop begins. Metal scraps and wires stick out from multiple boxes and milk crates closer to the back, with notes hanging overhead a desk that's centered in the middle of the back panel.

After helping her take her coat off, he nervously walks to the back and pulls a red velvet curtain through the half of the room to section off the work space, and when Roxanne gives him a questioning look he simply says "Just, work in progress. Pretty messy back there. I like to take things apart and see how they work, as a hobby." while a slow blush creeps its way to his cheeks and tips his ears.

She's never seen anyone blush that way and finds herself on the verge of joining him too, so she turns her gaze quickly to the two doors on the left wall and can see a blue light coming through one of them being open. The sound of water pulls her near almost in a trance. With a few steps she stands outside what seems to be a bedroom that has a massive tropical fish tank stretching beyond just being the headboard of a bed.

"That's my brother's room. He wouldn't mind if you were to go in, he loves showing off his collection." Amlin says over her shoulder as she walks in and takes a closer look at the glass.

Little groups of colorful fish swim through clouds of turtle grass and pink anemone sway with the current being formed by the passing clown fish. Small sea hares grazing over the sandy bottom prod their way around their neighboring hermit crabs searching for scraps of food.

She's been staring at the starfish stuck on one end of the tank's glass and doesn't notice he'd left until there's a drink slowly coming into her field of view. "Granada?" he offers with a small shake of the glass, and little bubbles make their way through the red drink to the top, pushing around a green sprig from an herb that he'd placed inside each cup. She takes the glass in both hands and gives him a raised eyebrow. "I thought you couldn't drink anymore?"

He smirks with a reply. "There's only so many pepperminty drinks a person can down before feeling like their stomach will betray them. Thought you'd like a change of scene."

She looks down at the glass and shrugs herself before taking a sip. The sweetness of the fruit drink is intermingled with something herbal that she can't place a guess on because the carbonation cuts through before she can figure it out.

"How'd you know I like pomegranate soda?" she asks, lowering the drink and eyeing him suspiciously.

He raises his hands in defense, saying "Hey, my roommate is your secretary. Keeps the pantry loaded with that stuff in case he's running late and needs to give you a peace offering."

He feels his eyes widen with the realization he just gave his brother up. "Don't tell him I said that."

She laughs and pokes him in the ribs with her free finger as she jests "I knew he wasn't stopping at the gas station every time he was late."

They both walk out of the glowing room and she stares down at her drink before pulling out the green sprig from her glass. "Rosemary?" she asks with an impressed look.

"It's, ah, something I learned from Menian. Taught me a little on how to make certain things and pairing up flavors. So far all I got is the drinks part down, I still have trouble not burning down the place when it comes to cooking." he says with embarrassment as the two make their way to the kitchen.

"Well, let me help you with that." she laughs, handing him her drink and rolling up the sleeves of her purple dress shirt, heading directly towards the fridge. He smiles back and places both of their drinks on the counter next to the ovens before adjusting the sleeves of his flannel button-down as well.

* * *

 _~You-you-you_

 _oughta know~_

The two women finish their second song with a curtsy and giggle their way back to their seats, only this time it's next to Henry and Judy instead, and the four men sitting across show their discomfort with one another as Judy makes the suggestion that Rich and Hal try their hand at singing next. Their looks of mortification draws silence from her and more giggles from the blondes.

The two look at each other and sigh as they try to muster the courage to get off the seats. They hesitate on getting up when the two women stand and offer to sing as back up if in turn they get to choose the song. With mixed feelings of fear and redemption the two guys nod in agreement and race to get up off the sofa.

 _Alright, the four of them are getting their last after this_ \- Menian thinks as he decides if he's going to intervene on the song choice, fearing it might be a demeaning song as they start their scroll through the "O's". But when he sees them going through Outkast, he breathes a little easier knowing none could be terribly off-putting. For the group singing, at least. He looks back to Wayne and see's he hasn't slowed his flow one bit and tries to distract him with conversation instead.

"So. How're the folks? Anything new going on lately?" he asks as he politely reaches for a handful of salted nuts that're sitting in a bowl on the table. Opening the fist over his mouth he starts his chewing as Wayne says "I'm going to ask Roxanne to marry me." while staring blankly straight ahead, still grasping his drink in hand over his waist.

Menian's brown eyes go wide and he starts coughing up the nuts, bits peppering off into his hands and lap. After clearing off the food into a napkin he looks over to Wayne, the chain attached to his earrings tinkling from the fast swing of his head. He stares hard at the drunk, wondering if the sentence is formed from his actual thoughts or if his mouth was taken over by the alcohol.

He nervously scratches at the sideburns that go down his jawline as he takes into consideration the fact that he had never heard of their relationship being anything more than friendly, at least from miss Ritchie herself. Everyone else seem to have their own little rumor mill running but he knows you'd have to be blind to not see that there was nothing going on between them.

Although his little brother is a genius, smart as he may be he's as dense as a rock when it comes to women. Menian was painfully aware of the looks Amlin would give miss Ritchie when it was just the two of them, or at least when he thought they were alone. How he would always make sure her broadcasts went through without a hitch, and all the extra measures he took to ensure her safety after an incident where during the middle of an interview someone assaulted her.

He had blamed himself time and again for not checking the perimeters or reacting fast enough to deploy his security system he regulated remotely from the master control room at the studio. After seeing Wayne subdue the guy, Amlin had stopped trying to get her attention as much, and lessened their interactions to almost being obsolete, figuring he was no competition to the quarterback.

"I, didn't think you two were a thing." he says carefully, his fingers pulling at the tips of his dyed mohawk. He stops when he hears Wayne say, "Oh, we're not. It's not exclusive, but we might be taking things a step further soon. I just haven't figure the best time to tell her."

Menian had pulled a little too hard and has a couple of strands of green and black hair in his fingers, and he spreads his hand out over a wastebasket underneath the coffee table before leaning back into his seat and rolling his head towards Wayne. "And does she know that?" he asks.

Wayne stops his drink below his lips to respond, "Not yet."

They settle in as the four in front of the room get into position to sing together, the two men leading in front of the mics as the women sing back-up behind them.

Just as they start clapping their hands for the countdown, Menian leans over and whispers into Wayne's ear, "Well you might want to hurry up on that."

 _~One-two-three-uh,_

 _my baby don't mess around_

 _because she loves me so,_

 _and this I know fo' sho~_

* * *

In the warehouse kitchen, there's tomato sauce splattered on the back splash behind the gas stove-top with pasta noodles cooked onto the range and salad dressing spilled on the counter top by the kitchen sink. A wooden bowl full of tossed greens sits in between the two at the dining room table with specks of sauce and oil dotting their jeans. Roxanne giggles as she tries to scoop some of the dressing at the bottom of the bowl by using a lettuce leaf just as Amlin does with his bare hands.

"C'mon, don't tell me you don't know how to eat a salad without any utensils?" he asks as she drops the leaf back into the bowl with laughter.

"When in the hell would I ever need to learn that?" she retorts, reaching in to grab a grape tomato and popping it in her mouth. He's distracted for a moment by how unsuspectingly erotic that simple act was and shakes the thought away before replying "I mean, a house where two bachelor brothers live? You don't expect us _not_ to run out of dishes every once in a while, do you? Sometimes we just use chopsticks for a whole week, and we eat soup and cereal out of mugs."

She snorts and says with a wink "I thought everyone did that. Makes it easier to drink when it changes temperature." and shrieks with laughter as he dips his finger into the bowl and dots the end of her nose with ranch dressing.

She gives him a playful punch in the shoulder and darts from the seat to clear the table, heading back to the kitchen to give the plates a rinse off and run everything through the dishwasher.

"Don't want to get Minion angry by destroying his kitchen." she says, and holds her breath. She turns around slowly to face Amlin, expecting him to scowl at her for using the nickname they taunt him with at work.

"Amlin, I'm so sorry. It, it slipped. You know I didn't mean it that way," she apologizes as he fans her off with a sideways smile.

"It's fine, it's fine. He's actually not bothered at all by it. Thinks it's the only way he get's people to notice him at work. He knows that when he get's in the zone of lugging the equipment around, he acts a little, well for lack of a better word caveman-ish. And he always follows you around at your command. I mean, he can't help it if it's his job but when he's out and about, it just seems to be in his nature to do so." he says as he soaks a towel with the running water and proceeds to wipe down the back splash.

"But what bothers him is when I step foot in the kitchen for anything other than a drink. So we keep this between you and me." he warns with a deadpan look. She laughs and sprays water his way before continuing wiping down the dishes and setting them all inside the machine.

After the clean up, they walk out into the living area and she strolls over to the low shelf that is built into the wall underneath the entrance walkway. She casually makes her way down the line, eyes scrolling over the music collection that expands in every which way and form. Some of the titles she's familiar with but most are names that are either unrecognizable or in another language.

"Can you even understand some of these records? This one is in french."

"Well, yeah. As a kid we traveled a lot, as part of a homeschooling curriculum. Naturally picked up on the native languages anywhere we went." she hears him reply behind her, and it might be the drink talking but she suddenly wishes he was closer.

Fingers rolling over the edges of the albums, she says "You guys sure do have a large collection of vinyl."

"It's something we couldn't get rid of when moving out of our parents. Growing up, our dad was always adding to the collection until we had more records than space to sleep in sometimes, so we made out beds out of milk crates and kept them underneath the mattress in the makeshift shelves. He just found it easier to bond with us over music than anything else, seeing how he was always called off to work at the prison."

She stops looking through the records for a moment and focuses on the conversation, letting her fingers flow through the albums mindlessly. "Your dad works at the prison?" she asks, curiosity creeping in on who her coworker was and the side of him she was finally being allowed to see.

"Yeah, he's the warden." he replied, almost nonchalantly.

She turns to face him, her blue eyes widening. "Your dad is John Parker? The man we interview every time we report on major cases? Where the convicted are sent to be held under lock-down if they prove to be too aggressive? _That_ John Parker?"

He looks at her with half-lidded, uninterested green eyes. "Yep" is all he says, popping the "P".

She gives a simple, "Huh," before returning her attention to the records. Fingering through them she pulls two yellowed albums from the middle of the stack to look at the titles. "I'm surprised you two kept it to yourselves for so long. I mean, I understand keeping business and personal separate, and there's no reason for us to know, but your own dad? I guess it's more of a surprise, since you two look nothing like your fa-"

"Oh, the three of us aren't related. By blood, I mean." he interrupts as she was pulling out _The Cry of Love_ album, the edge being held by the tips of her fingers.

Without letting go she slips it back into place and turns to face him again. "You what?"

"Menian and I. We're adopted." he says without a second thought, turning to shuffle his way back to the kitchen to fumble around through the glasses.

"Don't you think it odd the three of us look nothing alike each other? I mean he's bigger than dad. _A lot_ bigger. I'm shorter than both of them by a long shot, Menian has brown eyes, our parents have grey and I have green. _Green_. It was hard finding out your brother who is a few months older than you wasn't related at all to you, or how your family who raised you is not actually blood. In the end I guess it all seems brutally obvious, but it doesn't change the fact that we're still family." He says casually as he makes his way back, fresh drinks in hand.

He hands one over to Roxanne and they both raise their glasses, he taking a sip as she gulps half of hers down, trying to take in everything she just heard. He goes to place his drink on the coffee table and she places hers under the railing of the overhead hallway before turning back to the music.

"Of course we had a rebellious streak once we found out, but my dad didn't help much by feeding us the type of music we we're listening to rebel with. Doors, Van Halen, Stones. Just kept handing it over to us."

"I can see how it influenced your, taste." she replies as she looks to him from over her shoulder; head shaved bald whereas his brother has a tall black mohawk with a line of lime green running down the center, a thin strip of hair going down from his bottom lip to his chin where Menian instead had a chin strap, a small row of rings pierced into his right ear and a single gold hoop in his left, the closest thing the two have in common with appearance.

His black and red button-down was still hanging open, exposing the black band shirt underneath of a flaming skull and lightning bolts. He has a silver watch on one wrist and a spike cuff on the other that're peeking over his pant pockets, where both of his hands are tucked into. He's kicking over one of his milk crate stools with the sole of his calf-high combat boots, his leather pants tucked into the tops.

He looks over to her and stops with his foot suspended in the air. "What?" he asks, keeping the boot up.

"Nothing," she laughs, turning her attention back to the records. "I just don't know how you can breathe in those things."

"Hey-hey-hey, it takes a certain amount of suave to be able to pull off leather jeans," he warns her, raising a fanned hand in her direction. "That, and my devilishly good looks makes them look all the better," he jests as he goes over to stand next to her and squat down to look at the albums at eye level, his wallet chain dangling on the ground with a soft tinkle.

She wonders for a moment if he's actually aware of how good he really looks, or if he's just being condescending to himself. He's in the action of going through the albums and pulls out the blue and grey one she was looking at just moments ago, flipping the cover over repetitively before slipping the vinyl out of it's sleeve, standing up to stroll a few feet down from where they were standing. He places it in a record player centered in the middle of the wall collection, working his way back down to a squat to be able to adjust the knob settings.

There's static coming in through the speakers before the sound clears out to an electric guitar being strummed slowly, followed by the sounds of another electric as a back-up, with drums and clashing cymbals coming into the background.

She looks to him and can see down his neck, where there's blue lines running across the back of his nape, along with the letter "M".

"I didn't know you have a tattoo." she says and watches as he tenses up, his arms slacking at first before returning to their natural movement around the records.

Through the speakers, Jimi sings,

~ _You got my pride,_

 _hanging out of my bed~_

"I don't." he simply replies. "It's a birthmark."

"Bullshit." she calls, and her straightforwardness blows him away, how she's so un-afraid to voice her opinion will never cease to amaze him. Taking a deep breath, he rolls his head back and forth to pop his joints then lets his head droop for another moment.

"You don't know anything about me, how can you be so sure of yourself about it?" he queried to the floor.

"It's not like you know everything about me," she disputes.

"Not everything, but I know enough."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges, crossing her arms. "Prove it."

He remains in a squatting position with his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging limply to the ground. He had practiced this over and over in his head and countless times in the mirror, but facing the possibility of letting Roxanne be aware of how much of her he actually _knows_ all of a sudden seems discomforting to him. And down-right stalker-ish.

But she had to know. Putting all his cards on the table, he raises his head to look at the albums but doesn't raise it higher to look her in the eye.

"I know you went to Ann Arbor," he starts and she huffs with an eye roll, shrugging her shoulders as to give a wordless _yeah? duh._

"I also know why. And it wasn't for the education," he adds causing her to stiffen, eyes moving to look elsewhere in a hurry. Her arms stay crossed but from the corner of his eye he can see her fingers dig slightly into her skin.

"You haven't had a decent relationship with your parents since high school. They wanted you to follow your dad's footsteps in Astrology, or take over your mother's firm over in Houghton, despite living closer to Copper Harbor. They favor your brother even though he's a drunk with no decent path in life because he still lives with them, because _a close family is a loving family_ , as you say your mother puts it."

Her teeth grind back and forth in a slow, methodical pace as she starts to regret having challenged him. Not only because she didn't want to hear anymore of what he knew, but from the fear of hearing someone else describe herself, bringing to light everything she tries so hard to push into the shadows from herself.

"Because of some fights you had with them as a kid, now whenever you're stressed or need time to yourself you hide inside a library or bookstore. On some occasions when you take a trip to the lake-shore you come home with beach glass instead of shells, and you put them in dollar store jars over your kitchen cabinets where they can be seen from your sofa because you like the bohemian appeal they create. You prefer things that have chocolate in them, however when it comes to a Neapolitan you choose strawberry first because you think it's under appreciated. You've never had a pet even though you grew up in a small suburban town and you still don't have one because of work. The only living things in your apartment are succulents because you can't stand the thought of something dying under your care, And you despise the way no one seems to listen to you when it comes to actual problems at work."

She gapes at him, speechless of all but a few words.

"How do you know all of tha-" she tries to ask and he cuts her off.

"You know all those times you walked into the gallery moping, needing someone to talk to so you go on those rants of yours thinking I'm not listening?" he questioned rhetorically, staring into the sea of albums just beyond his reach.

He finally looks up to meet her eyes, gazing straight into the piercing blue, and slowly brings himself up to her level, taking a few steps forward until she can just about feel his breath graze across her skin, never breaking contact.

He makes a jerked movement with his right hand, bringing it up between them at first, then bringing his left so both hands are gripping the edges of his button down. He flips his hands out at the same time, causing the overcoat to open and drop around his shoulders, and he shrugs off the coat, letting it fall with a _flump_ around his feet.

He raises his left arm, and while gripping the bottom of the shirt starts shoving his elbow into his waist and rolls the fabric over his arm and head, letting it hang off his right shoulder until it, too, falls on the ground. They stand mere inches from each other, as he fights the urge to reach out and hold her cheek as he's done so often before in his imagination, although usually it's the inverse on who's missing the clothing.

And they never break eye contact. Until he reluctantly turns around and she lowers her eyes to the nape of his neck, where she sees that it isn't lightning bolts, but streaks of dark blue veins that run parallel down his neck, and she sees that it isn't the letter "M" per se, but lines in a darker blue color that cross each other in such a manner that they could easily be mistaken for the letter.

"Is, is this why you always wear things with high necks?" she asks quietly, her voice sounding childlike all of a sudden.

His breath shakes as he makes a wordless sound.

She was distracted by the fact that his bare back was now facing her, and she didn't realize her eyes had wandered down the lines of his toned skin when she hears his voice bring her back.

"Spee-ider veins."

"Hmm?" she voices, her eyes still fixed on the curves his shoulder blades make when he rolls an arm. Then, after registering what he said, forces a blink and looks back up to his ear, staring at the shining loops when she asks, "Spee-ider? You mean spider?"

"Tomato, potato." he says in a tone that made it obvious he could care less about his mispronunciations. "Kids used to mock me in shool all the time for not knowing how to say certain words correctly, since I mostly learned from reading. Because of it, brother and I were treated kind of like outsiders most of the time, usually kept away from us throughout the day." he goes on to say, bending over to pick up his shirts from the floor.

He turns around slowly as he's righting the shirts while he goes on to say "Unless it was to play dodge-ball. Menian was much smaller back then, so I had to do a lot of the protecting when they launched the balls at us. You think he's an okay guy now but back then Wayne treated anyone who looked or thought differently like a target, so he would have Menian and I be the only ones on our team to defend ourselves, that little as-"

"Wait" she snaps, freezing him from his action of picking out strands of lint from his shirt and looking back up to meet her eyes. "You said you were home-schooled."

His open eyes go back and forth from her to the empty space surrounding her, and he looks at her to say "Before, we dropped out."

"You're telling me that you guys went to school with Wayne as kids?" Her face is closer to his now, showing something crossing anger and perplexity.

The surprised look on his face wasn't as much as from Roxanne not knowing, but seeming to actually _want_ to. He nods his head slowly and adds "He's the reason we dropped out."

Her head stays in the same position as her eyes roll down to look through his chest.

"Twenty years," she mutters, recalling what he had said earlier and just now processing it.

She shakes her head in disbelief and turns to walk towards the sofa. "Y-you didn't know?" he asks, eyebrows raised in a questioning matter as he continues to call out to her "But you and Wayne spend most of your days together, I mean I thought he would've at least mentioned it once during one of your dates-"

"DON'T" she calls out sternly, raising her hand out towards him as she turns her head back with a glare. "You may think you know everything, but that's one thing you're dead wrong on. Everyone thinks we're an item, a "thing"," she quotes with her fingers. "And no one ever bothers to actually check with me to confirm, they just throw around assumptions because he's mister Metro, the gem of the city, he can get anyone he wants. Saves me from a guy who gets too grabby with me on camera, ONE guy, and everyone thinks I'd jump in bed with him the next night. If the cameras weren't rolling live this rumor wouldn't have started in the first place!" she cries, throwing herself onto the sofa.

~ _Freedom, freedom, give it to me._

 _So I can live._

 _Freedom, freedom, give it to me._

 _So I can give._ ~  
sings through the quiet between them.

She takes a moment to look around and pulls one of the blankets that lay across the sofa to cover herself in a bundle. "I'm sorry." she calls out, one of her hands coming out from under the fabric to start rubbing at her temples as she looks through her fingers to him standing on the other side of the table, one arm still holding his shirts. Which he never put back on.

 _Does he know what he's doing or is he that unaware of his own body?_ she wonders as she peers through the safety behind her fingers.

In the background, the beat coming through the speakers change as the record plays the next song.

She has never taken the time to actually _look_ at him and take note of his appearance; his slender body isn't necessarily thin but has curves and hard lines that deepen when his muscles bend and flex. He's always wearing tight clothing with a baggy overcoat in the office, but he keeps the master control room dark and cold so she can never get a good look at his build.

She takes her hand down and pats the empty seat next to her on the sofa. "I'm just a little..., it seems you know so much about me already and I'm just now learning things about you. It feels, sad, seeing how we've all been working together and even hanging out sometimes for years and yet we never actually took the time to get to know one another." she says with a sad smile, and looks off to the side when he sits down next to her without saying a word.

She looks down to her hands and picks at a nail, the tension between them growing tense. The silence only breaks when he asks "You and Metro aren't dating?"

She stops fidgeting her fingers and looks over to him sitting there with clear surprise on his face, less than an arms length away and he's shirtless _and what the hell are you waiting for, Roxanne?_

~ _Drifting,_

 _On a sea, of forgotten teardrops_ ~

"Roxanne?" he calls out again and she snaps her blue eyes up to look into his green ones. "Why?" he asks gently.

"He's, well he's mister tall strong and handsome, his family is well off, I mean he's the most eligible bachelor out there, everything you could possibly want. He can.., take care of you." he says, with almost a pain showing in the gleam of his eyes. "What are you waiting for?"

There seems to be a million voices shouting through her head, but the only one she can hear is repeating one word.

"You" is all she says before closing the distance between them.

* * *

 **SONG NOTES!**  
1)"Blue Christmas" by Elvis Presley, Elvis' Christmas Album  
2)"Let's Call it Off" by Peter Bjorn and John, Writers Block  
3)"You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little Pill  
4)"Hey Ya" by Outkast, Speakerboxxx/The Love Below two disc album (TLB side)  
5)"Freedom" by Jimi Hendrix, The Cry of Love  
6)"Drifting" by Jimi Hendrix, The Cry of Love

So first of all, the idea behind this story came to me in the vision of a group of people singing karaoke, and one in particular sings Mr. Brightside by The Killers. I loved the idea but hated how the song is about a man who is so used to being the loser, he sits back and lets it roll over him when he loses the girl he wants.

So I thought, "why not make it about the man who is so used to having everything done his way, he doesn't expect to lose his supposed girlfriend?" and BOOM, 11,703 words later I thought "Oh crap. Hav'ta make this it's own story now"

And thus, The Empty Orchestra was born.

Also wanted to note, the name "Amlin" is an original of LadySpock7's, all credit goes to her and her incredible stories (seriously, amazing stuff there)

The scene of which Megs and Roxanne talk about the "Artichoke dip" actually happened in real life, and you can find it online if you search "(Bad)Artichoke dip(or fail)". It was the funniest thing I had seen lately and couldn't help but easily add it in when I thought of what they could possibly talk about on their way to his "lair".

Let me know how you take it so far, I know human!Megamind is a little farther than anyone's taste but, c'mon, this is a work of fiction.*says while obsessing over two characters potential romantic relationship*

-P.C.


	2. Mr Brightside and the Morning After

**Like I had mentioned before, I mean no distaste to any of you, however I do like to thank my reviewers on leaving their positive opinions on the first chapter.**

 **It was hard at first putting together the story, but once I got the flow of it I found it hard to stop myself from adding too much.**  
 **Besides, this is meant to be only two chapters long.**

 **I had so much fun writing this story out and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it for y'all.**

 **So it is with my pleasure that I present to you:**

 **The Empty Orchestra.**  
 **Act II:**  
 **Mr. Brightside and the Morning After**

 **Words; 7,095**

* * *

~ _Oh,_

 _We're halfway there._

 _Ah-ah!_

 _Livin' on a prayer_ ~

 _That's it, everyone is cut off_ , Menian thinks while rubbing both hands over his temples as practically everyone in the group is huddled around the microphones, singing the last lines of Bon Jovi.

The room is filled with laughter as some of them fall over each other trying to get back to their seats. Rich is crawling to the sofa with a microphone stand leaning on his back from where Miranda had fallen and knocked it over, and she sits against the wall with her legs intermingled with his. Hal is trying to walk over the two to get back to his seat when Rich reaches up and holds one of his ankles, tripping the redhead onto the couch cushions face first.

Henry and Judy are leaning on each other in laughter as they try to help one another back to their own seats on the other couch. Brittney is the only one left standing at the front of the room with a mic in her hand, holding it out to Menian with a shake.

"Menian! Make me anotha'," she calls with an exaggerated posh accent, signaling to the screen behind her with her free hand by fluttering her fingers over her head as she looks down her nose at him.

He sighs into the couch cushions before getting up and helping Rich on the floor get to his seat and righting Hal to sit up correctly on his. He lifts Miranda by her waist and fights off Brittney's demands for another song with stern no's. Hoisting both women in each arm and fighting to get them in their seats, he says "I think we've all had enough. Let's call it a night guys, should start getting our things together and calling rides," with hands fisted on both sides of his hips, his head hanging low.

He hears a glass clatter onto the coffee table behind him and Wayne whine out "No. Why do we have to end it here, the night is still young-" "Wayne, it's two in the morning," Menian interrupts looking over his shoulder at Wayne as he keeps on going "-and I haven't even gotten to sing yet. At least one song, I want to sing a song."

Menian was in the middle of grumbling loudly to the floor when Miranda points towards him. "Yeah, Menian hasn't sung either. You two need to do a song before we leave, we can't go home without hearing you sing, Menny."

Rolling his eyes with his head, he runs his fingers over the tips of his hawk while gripping his forehead with one palm before bringing the open hand down, pulling both bottom eyelids in the process. "Okay. Okay, okay. If we sing a song will you all go home?"

The group agrees and cheers as Wayne stands up on the other side of the room, reaching over the sea of plates and empty glasses to hand a microphone to Menian as they both walk around the table towards the stands to prepare themselves.

"What did you have in mind?" Menian asks while Wayne struggles against the alcohol in his system to put the mic into the stand correctly, a few strands of his pompadour straying onto his forehead.

"Anything, any one, I just want to sing. Just.., ungh." Wayne grunts as he motions for Menian to go to the computer on the wall and choose from the list, still fighting the mic stand with intense concentration and his tongue sticking out between his teeth.

Menian sighs and helps the drunk adjust the stand before attempting to fix his own. He pauses with a thoughtful look and casually makes his way up to the keyboard, typing in "m, r, . , b, r," until finding his choice scroll down the monitor and clicking on it.

Wayne sobers himself up when seeing the cover flash on the little tv in between the stands, and turns to Menian when he reaches his microphone to get ready.

" _Killers_?" he asks, puzzled by the particular choice.

Menian gives a chill smile that shows off his snaggletooth. "What can I say. My brother and I like their songs. Guilty pleasure."

The beat comes in through the speakers as the little screen starts counting down the tempo for them to start.

They both reach for the mics and sing in the first chorus, Wayne blurting out the words being highlighted faster than he can keep up, and Menian keeping his voice low as a backup.

~ _Coming out of my cage,_

 _and I've been doing just fine,_

 _gotta gotta be down because I want it all._

 _It started out with a kiss,_

 _how did it end up like this?_

 _It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss.~_

For a split second Wayne looks over to Menian with a moment of suspicion, before bringing his attention back to the screen for the next lines. He sings along a little longer, slowing with each word until he's just barely mumbling them into the microphone.

~ _Now I'm falling asleep,_

 _And she's calling a cab,_

 _While he's having a smoke,_

 _And she's taking a drag,_

 _Now they're going to bed,_

 _And my stomach is sick,_

 _And it's all in my head-~_

When all of a sudden he takes a step back and lets go of the mic as Menian continues with the song, his eyes closed as he sings the song from heart,

~ _But she's touching his chest,_

 _Now,_

 _he takes off her dress,_

 _Now,_

 _let me go._

 _I just can't look,_

 _its killing me~_

He's not aware of what he's doing until after he does it, but both of them are on the floor faster than the rest of the group realize Wayne has thrown out a punch and Menian retaliated by dragging the drunkard down in a headlock.

~ _and taking con-trol._ ~ pours in through the speakers.

Both are rolling on the floor when Henry and Rich make a grab for their shoulders to separate the two hulking men from tearing each other apart, Wayne shouting out "What was that about?"

~ _Jealousy,_

 _turning saints into the sea,~_

The other three men look to him with worried confusion when Menian says "I should ask you the same thing!"

~ _swimming through sick lullabies,_

 _choking on your alibis.~_

"Oh don't give me that bullshit, you chose that song on purpose."

~ _But it's just the price I pay,~_

"That's the whole point of karaoke, Wayne, to choose songs you like to sing along to," Menian replies, letting Henry help him get up to a stand.

~ _destiny is calling me.~_

Rich was attempting to get Wayne up when the burly man shot himself up and threw an accusing finger towards Menian. "You know why you chose that one and it's not because you like it."

 _~Open up my eager eyes,~_

His brown eyes turned into slits as he put two and two together. "Why would you be bothered at my choice unless.., wait a min-you think the song is about my brother and _Roxanne_?"

~' _Cause I'm mr Brightside.~_

All eyes turn towards Wayne as the group realizes what the punch was aimed towards, and the helping hands start to back off with a couple of steps. "That's ridiculous," he goes on, "My brother doesn't even smoke cigarettes.

Wayne makes another lunge when the other two step back in between to keep them apart.

"Why, Wayne? Why do you care? Afraid of a little non-existent competition, as you once put it?" Menian exclaims.

Henry comes in to interrupt "Well it's understandable for a man to get protective when his, paramour is with another man-" when Menian cuts in. "He and Roxanne aren't together. Never were to begin with."

Wayne feels all eyes go back to him as he struggles to find an excuse for his outburst, his protective demeanor torn down to pieces.

His eyes dart back and forth as his lips move wordlessly, trying to come up with a justified explanation. "It, well-uh, just that. Your brother isn't the best choice for her. He's a trouble maker, for starters, always starting fights with me and causing problems in the studio. I don't know why or even how he still has a job."

"Because unlike some people he's very good at it. And who are you to talk about trouble? Afraid the bad guy might get the girl?" Menian replies defensively, hands clenching and relaxing at his sides. "As for the fighting, I think it could come to debate on who started them in the first place."

Exchanging glares, Wayne cries out "I apologized!"

"But did you ever actually said you were _sorry?_ Because there's a pretty damn big difference," Menian exclaims, pointing with all five fingers.

They stand in tense silence as both men shift on their feet. "You have no say in what Roxanne decides to do with her life," Menian warns.

"Or who." Brittney adds, receiving a giggle from Miranda and a scolding look from Judy.

Wayne is about to say something when he feels a sting in his knuckles. Looking down to his fist he realizes he cut himself somehow during the struggle, and turning back up to face Menian he can see the man's bottom lip is cut open when it got caught in his teeth.

He get's hit with a serious case of Dèjá-vècu. A wave of nausea comes crashing over him as he can envision laughing kids, grade school age, huddled around two small boys on the grassy ground. Green eyes look up to him with a coldness that he can't brush off to this day, a cut lip bruising his face as he holds on to his older but smaller brother.

As quickly the memory came into his field of vision it fades away, the nausea slowly subsiding when he brings himself back to the present.

He feels the blush of embarrassment and indignation spread through his face, and he looks around to his co-workers with the expression of a child being forced to apologize. "I, I'm sorry I ruined the party. I shouldn't have behaved like that." He excuses himself while preparing to leave, taking his few steps towards the table to gather what he brought with him.

"Where are you going?" asks Henry, to which Wayne replies as he walks out the room, "If I'm lucky, to find Roxanne."

"Well they didn't take a cab, either!" Menian shouts to the closing doors after running his tongue over the cut, and Rich laughs as he raises a closed hand towards him to give him a fist-bump. Menian shoots him a look before giving in with a sigh and meets his fist with unenthusiasm, walking past to take his seat next to him and sink himself into the cushions once more.

Both blondes pull out their cellphones from their pockets within seconds and start typing furiously into the screens with their thumbs. "Oh, she's so gonna get it," mutters Brittney, Miranda laughing as she says "Judging by the time I'd say she already has," causing the older adults to tut with distaste.

~ _I never._

 _I never.~_

The song fades away and everyone shifts in their place uncomfortably. Judy has a pensive look when she asks " _Did_ you choose that song on purpose?"

"No! I mean, not really. I just, had a feeling I needed to sing it, for some reason," Menian replies, looking lost.

With a jerk, Hal suddenly sits up from his seat and yawns, looking around to everyone with blinking eyes. "Hey, has anybody seen Roxanne?" he asks, to which they all turn to look at him with bewilderment.

* * *

~ _angel came down,_

 _from heaven yesterday._

 _She stayed with me just long enough to rescue me~_  
floats in seemingly from another room to Roxanne's ears. She shifts for a stretch and buries herself into the warm comfort of pillows and blankets that engulf her.

 _nest. warm nest. soft, silky blankets. puffy pillows, ooh, this one's cold. stre-etch legs, oops, kicked his shin... his, shin?_ she thinks as she slowly opens her eyes and looks around the room she is in. There's a dim blue glow coming from overhead that helps her eyes adjust to the room as she scans the dark walls surrounding her.

Shelves upon shelves of books line along the wall she is facing, and she brings her eyes up to find a mural of the night sky painted on the ceiling that glows with enough light to brighten the windowless room. She looks at the alignment of it and finds she doesn't recognize any of the constellations stenciled on there, even with how they do seem to be intentionally drawn on with purposefulness.

She rolls her head over and feels Amlin's breathing closer to her neck, suddenly aware of his arm around her over the covers, and the rush of memories from last night come flooding in.

At first she stiffens, unsure of what to do when a panic sets through her.

 _oh god. ohgodohgodoh-damn-me-to-hell what was I THINKING,_ she berates herself, gritting her teeth and kicking herself mentally. Dread fills her at the thought of seeming needy and clingy from the alcohol and sensitive conversation they had the night before.

Her free fingers fidget with a lock of her hair for a while longer and only stops when she feels his arm tightening around her waist and the deep sigh he breathes in her hair. She rests for a little longer giving in to the feeling, almost falling back asleep with the faintest smile ghosting her lips until she snaps her eyes open and reaches an arm out from cover to the night stand, lifting his watch up to look at the time.

 _7:48._

Placing it down, she pushes the covers off and is thankful to be wearing one of his shirts as a nightgown, however tight it may be, because she can't find any of her own clothes right away.

She looks around and sees the familiar colors that are her clothing laying in a puddle next to his door, and vaguely remembers picking them up from the floor last night when they decided to get off the sofa and continue in the bedroom. _His_ bedroom.

Dressing up near the foot of the bed, she hears him shift under the covers behind her and she turns to see him getting up and propping himself on one elbow, his eyes seeming to radiate in the light of the glow-paint after he rubs at them to wake himself up.

"Hey, sleepy. Thought I'd, get on out of here before Menian wakes up and finds me here. Might get kind of awkward," she whispers as she crosses the room, adjusting the sleeves on her shirt.

His shoulders hunch and she can see his lips pull tightly as his eyebrows draw together in a worried knot over the bridge of his nose. He seems to be thinking deeply when he looks away and nods his head in slow but quiet agreement. He doesn't look up to her but instead focuses his attention on his hand clutching a fist full of comforter.

"I... I'm, sorry. For taking advantage of you. You were in a vulnerable state, and I shouldn't have let it happen, get this far. I, you don't.., I'm pretty sure you didn't plan on waking up in bed next to me yesterday morning. And I won't tell anyone. So don't worry about regretting it later, I won't force you to relive-"

"Whoa, wai-wait wait. Regret?" she stops him on his tracks. "You think, I regret doing this?" she asks in bewilderment, taking a few steps forward. Her right hand floats over the center of her chest, seeming to be motioning to herself but in actuality is trying to make sure her heart won't rip through her shirt. It sure as hell does feel like it will to her.

He still doesn't look up because that's how the dreams usually end. He tells her he loves her, and she pours out her heart for him, the soul wrenching words that pull him out of the darkness inside himself into the warmth that is her, the sound of her voice filling his ears with ecstasy so close to him he can imagine feeling her breath on his skin.

That is, until he wakes up and is brought back into the dark hole that is his room, the muffled silence deafening his ears. After the first few months of having his own room when they moved into the warehouse, he couldn't take it anymore and painted the glowing mural overhead almost in an automatic state, seeming to know exactly where to place each star, just so he would never wake up to darkness again. He fears the dark more than being alone, because the darkness usually leaves him _feeling_ alone.

He feels her hand on his head, and he lets go of the blankets, looking into her eyes that seem to be searching for something. "You," is all she says before laying a kiss on his left cheek.

"I can," as she turns to kiss his right.

"Never," and she tilts his head down to place her lips on his forehead.

"Regret," while she lowers her lips to his chin, her fingers clasping it to raise his head slightly.

"Being," as she rubs her nose on his, fluttering her eyes closed with a soft smile.

"With," is all she says as she stares into his eyes, the luster in them so strong she feels herself being pulled into his dilating pupils. She brings her lips in, her eyes closing slightly but still open enough to see him close his, feeling him sigh into her mouth.

She pulls her head back and waits for him to open his eyes again before speaking. She says for assurance, "Call me later. Maybe we can meet somewhere for lunch."

She bends down to give him another kiss on the lips, and adds quietly with a shrug "And we can let Menian know together. After, talking it out."

He gives her a warming smile that makes her want to throw all sense out the window and climb back under the covers just to hold him a little longer, but she restrains herself, standing up to walk back to the door.

"Roxanne," he calls out, holding one hand up to reach for her as his shoulders leave the headboard. She turns to him, her fingers wrapped around the door-knob, and he hesitates with his words, bringing his hand back down to fidget with his fingers. She gives a short breath of a laugh and smiles, saying "Not yet," before opening the door quietly and walking out to the main area, music pouring into the room for that brief moment before the silence surrounds him once more.

"I didn't wake up." he tells the empty room.

* * *

~ _I said: "I just came back, baby..._

 _I just came back from the storm._

 _Yeah, from the storm._ ~  
flows into the room as she walks out, seeing Menian in the kitchen with his back towards her. She stops momentarily but assumes the music will be able to cover her footsteps on the concrete.

She's halfway to the front door when she realizes she feels a little light. Patting herself she remembers it's the early morning hours of December and she doesn't have her coat on her. Stopping in front of the makeshift living room, she struggles to remember where was the last place she took it off. Eyeing it still draped across the sofa's back, she tip-toes over to grab it and drag it over one arm, quietly making her way up the stairs when Menian turns from the stove top with a pan in hand and calls out to her, "I was wondering when you two would get up, breakfast is just about done."

She freezes with her foot raised to climb the next step, and turns to look at Menian directly. His response took her by surprise; seeing as he's always protective of Amlin she expected nothing short from outrage and a cold shoulder.

She gives an embarrassed smile at being caught attempting to sneak out, and relaxes her shoulders when he smiles back with a snort and motions for her to sit at the half wall that closes in the kitchen slightly, converting it into a bar.

She watches his fluid motions through the kitchen, multitasking with ease as he starts a conversation with her after she asks "You're, not mad?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad? It's not like you were trying to-" then he goes quiet, slowing his movements and looking over his shoulder to her. "He's not awake, is he." he asks with a solemn look.

"What? NO, oh no I would never-, we just didn't want to run into you on my way out. Kinda, wanted to break it to you in a less awkward way," she laughs, tucking her bangs nervously behind her ear. "Well, I guess the cat is out of the bag. Um, how did you, exactly..." she trails off, her shoulders shrugging as she waves one hand palm faced up.

"Besides your phone ringing in your coat pocket throughout the night? You left your underwear on the couch."

Her eyes widen in shock and she turns to look at the sofa and sure enough, there they are, tucked into the divider cushions almost unseen. Her face immediately flushes in embarrassment as she darts off the stool to yank them out and fold them into the coat pocket, bringing out her phone in the same motion.

 _Sweet Jesus I knew I didn't leave the apartment without them on,_ she scolds herself as she scrolls through the countless notifications on her lock screen.

 _11 missed calls_  
 _16 new messages_  
 _5 e-mails_  
 _30+ social media alerts_

"What the hell?" she mumbles, going through the texts first. "Did the world end last night?" she asks a little louder, Menian replying "Well, it almost did for Wayne."

She sighs as she goes through the list of people who messaged her the night before.

 _Miranda: Girl, I cant believe you. Why havnt you said n e thing bout you and the blue man gettin down with t-_

 _Brittney: Ur SO dead wen we get back mon. Do U know how hard ive been holding back frm Wayne because of "boun-_

 _Wayne: Where are you? need to talk_

 _Hal: Hey, i know im like only supposed to use your number for work related emergencies n stuff but i not-_

 _Wayne: Hey Rox, could you at least give me a call back? let me know you got home okay?_

 _Wayne: Roxie I need to talk to you, its urgent, please call, or at least txt me_

She scrolls through the rest of the message summaries, asking "So I assume I _shouldn't_ call Wayne back?" without looking up from her phone.

"Not yet at least. Give him some time to cool off," he replies as she looks up just in time to see the right side of his face, not clearly visible before from her angle on the stairs.

"Oh my god _MENIAN_ are you okay? What the hell happened to you?" she exclaims, dropping her phone onto the counter and rushing around the bar to hover her hands over his swollen cheek, wanting to help but not wanting to touch him at the same time.

He tries to wave her off with a scoff. "Just a little scratch. You should see the other guy. Actually, don't say anything to Amlin. He's gonna get enough shit tomorrow at work."

She gives a snort, lowering her hands and looking up to him helplessly. "Well, good luck hiding THAT from him."

She sighs and turns to the counter next to him, her fingers drumming on the granite. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"Well, while I finish off stirring the risotto, could you start setting up the table?" he asks, motioning towards the minute table she and Amlin ate off of the night before.

"Risotto for breakfast?" she says with surprise, peering over into the pot. "Sounds.., heavy."

"Sounds delicious, and it's cold outside and I'm cooking," Menian states with a playful attitude.

She lets out a "Ha" and moves through the cabinets with recalled memory of where the different items are placed throughout the kitchen; the bowls and glasses in the cabinets over head her, the silverware in the drawer in front of her hips, and the place-mats in the drawer underneath the bar counter top.

"So it _was_ you in the kitchen last night," Menian calls out without turning around, and Roxanne leans her back on the counter next to him with a skeptical look. "Okay, how'd you guess that one?" she asks.

"The dishes in the wash. He always forgets to turn it on. Usually just leaves them in the sink, still dirty with bits of food. Plus there was still some tomato sauce stuck on one of the burners."

She lets out a breathy laugh, stepping along side him to pull down the dishes from the cabinets overhead. "And you seem to be a little too familiar with the layout," he adds, pointing at her with the rubber spatula.

~ _You got my pride,_

 _hanging out of my bed~_

Holding the bowls in her hand, she looks over to the living room area and turns back to Menian, her eyebrows furrowing into the familiar pattern of confusion.

"How did the record play the next side? Does it flip the turntable automatically?" she asks him.

"Eh, put it simply, he designed it to have a needle on both sides, and when it detects the arm has reached the end, it starts playing from the other side again."

"Did we leave it playing on a loop? I'm sorry, had I known I would've turned it off," she says apologetically.

Rolling his head from one side to the other, he gives a contemplative look when telling her "No, it's okay, usually he leaves it on overnight anyway. Used to fall asleep listening to records together when we were kids, kinda gives me nostalgia so I don't complain.

Placing the bowls next to the stove-top, she turns to his back and can see something on his skin sticking out of the top of his muscle shirt. She gives a squint as she slowly extends her arm up and quickly yanks the fabric down, to his surprise, and he drops his rubber spatula onto the floor.

"Hey, agck, miss, Ritchie?" he spits out with the shirt's neck digging into his skin, and gasps for air when she lets go of her grip but holds him in place by his shoulders.

"Menian, why do you have a green "M" tattooed on your neck?" she asks.

He coughs before being able to respond. "Because, Menian starts with the letter "M"?" he replies, more of a question than it was a statement.

"Uh-huh. And it's just a coincidence it looks exactly like Amlin's?" she asks sarcastically, finally letting go of the man who towers her by nearly a foot. He stops moving for a moment, at at first she thinks he doesn't want to talk about it, but when he finally speaks she's not so sure if she want's to _hear_ it.

"I'm sure you noticed he's a smart guy. Stupid, sometimes, but generally smarter than anyone else out there. He ever tell you as a kid he made me a little robot with a remote control? Made it out of tin cans and parts left over from a cd player so it could make us popcorn for our movie nights. Of course the laser would overheat the popcorn, setting everything on fire but it's the thought that counts."

She smiled at the image of a little Amlin working on a bench with a soldering iron and goggles too big for his head.

Menian turns back to the counter and opens one of the drawers, staring blankly into the contents. "He was proud of his inventions and problems he could solve. Called himself Megamind, and even wrote it on the corner of his papers sometimes. But you know kids, they can be dumb. Or cruel," he goes on to say, stirring the pot after digging for a new spatula in the drawer.

Roxanne turns to busy herself with preparing everything needed for their breakfast, walking in between the rooms to set the place-mats and utensils on the wooden table as quietly as she could while listening intently.

"They'd make fun of him for the name, and even being able to solve complex problems and riddles, can you believe that, being made fun of for being smart?" he goes on, anger hinted in his words.

She finds herself painfully being able to relate to Amlin; She herself was at the end of taunting fingers as a kid for carrying around her fathers **_Backyard Astronomer's Guide_** until one day she threw it away during lunch hour in front of the filled cafeteria in a fit of rage. She never forgave herself for that.

"Well, it became worse one day when Wayne noticed his mark on the back of his neck. Did I mention we went to grade school with him?" he interrupts himself to ask, turning slightly to look at Roxanne as she shakes her head.

"No, but I already knew."

He gives a short nod and continues, "We already had problems with Wayne to begin with, always picking on us since we had transferred from the orphanage. Well, one thing led to another and the next thing you know, Wayne got in a nasty altercation with us after a dodge ball game had gone wrong, sending us home with school yard cuts and a bruised pride. Next day Amlin set off a paint bomb in the middle of class, turning everyone blue in the process. Both of us got suspended on the spot."

She stops the action of putting the silverware up and starts making a wheezing sort of sound that concerns Menian enough to draw him over to her. "Miss? Are you okay? Did you-" and he stops when she turns around with wet eyes, her cheeks drawn high on her face with a smile.

"Oh man, what I would do to have been able to see _that,_ " she says, wiping at the corners of her eyes. "Is that why they call him Blue?"

Breathing in with relief, he walks back into the kitchen and replies, "No, not really. People don't connect us to the misfits in grade school because they only remember him by the name Megamind and me.., well, some don't recognize me anymore, most didn't even bother remembering my name. Nah, Blue mostly comes from him being a sourpuss most of the time, known for being brutally honest about everything anyone else says, although he's generally an optimistic guy himself. Always looking forward to the day because he gets to see yo-" he freezes, his shoulders coming up, but shrugs when he realizes it's too late to retract what he said. "Gets to see you," he repeats. She gives a shy smile as she tilts her head down, trying to hide the pink coloration glowing on her cheeks.

"It's just that, when he tries to point out obvious flaws and mistakes, it comes out, eh-well," he makes a juggling motion with his hands as he tries to look for the right word.

"Blunt," she fills in, and he nods in agreement. "Yeah, kind of. But the nickname doesn't bother him like they think it does, he actually takes pride in it. Not as much as he used to with Megamind, but close."

She takes in his words in silence for a moment before saying "But that doesn't explain why you have an "M" on your neck."

He adjusts the bowls for serving and turns off the heat on the stove top, pulling the pots and pans to start plating the food. "Well, after a few years of homeschooling he still couldn't get over the fact that he had this big ugly birthmark on the back of his neck, kept trying to figure out ways to cover it up, or even remove it," he says quietly, the clinking of metal spoons on porcelain sounding louder than his words.

"Sometimes we would be out and about and some kids would notice it out in the crowd and point it out to others loudly. Couldn't believe after all these years he still had to face scrutiny from people of all ages, so on my sixteenth birthday I went into a parlor with my dad and told the tattoo artist to cover up _my_ birthmark with an "M". Mine wasn't as noticeable or detailed as his because it looked like a staple and a number one, so they just traced over it in green ink. Course I didn't stop there, but what dad doesn't know wont kill me."

She shakes with nervous laughter, not sure what to make of everything she's learned so far, being it's barely past eight in the morning. She's absentmindedly reaching for a fruit basket they have on the bar counter, and knocks over the oranges on accident when she pulls out a pear. Cursing, she bends down to pick up the fruit when she hears a door close loudly on the other side of the warehouse, and an all too familiar voice call out into the warehouse.

"Menian! You will not believe the dream I had last night!"

Overhead behind her, Menian starts waving both of his hands frantically at chest height, raising his right to make a slicing motion over his neck while mouthing out a sentence. "Menian it's too early for cha-rads, I don't know what you're saying-" she can hear Amlin say and he stops himself when she pops up from behind the counter, stopping him in his tracks.

She can see he had taken a shower and changed into science themed pajama bottoms along with fuzzy bat slippers that poke out from underneath a black robe that is a few sizes too big for him. The look on his face could tell her more than the stammering he was doing; not having expected her to stick around and catch him in his vulnerable state of casualness.

"I, uh, guess it's gonna be breakfast instead," she says with a small smile pulling at the edges of her lips, trying to shrug and maintain the bundle of oranges in her arms.

He grins and rushes around the counter to help her place the fruit back on the bowl and turns to Menian, who has his arms full himself with the bowls of risotto.

"My god, Menian what happened to your face?" he asks, the smile falling off his own.

Before Menian could say anything, Roxanne speaks up on his behalf.

"He got into a bar fight after the karaoke. Some guy started an argument over the Wolverines not getting into the divisional, and someone else said hell would freeze over if that ever happened and yadda yadda, then a chair was thrown and well..." Raising both eyebrows she points with her head towards Menian, who's placing the bowls down on the table by this point.

"Man, I always miss the good ones," Amlin pouts, pulling three cans of soda from the pantry and reaching into the freezer for the ice.

From the table Roxanne can see Minion mouth the words "Thank you" towards her, and she gives him a nod with a half smile before she and Amlin walk out of the kitchen area.

* * *

They're sitting around the quaint dining room table, the men on each end and Roxanne in the middle, their dishes barely separated by a few inches with elbows rubbing on each other as they eat in their comfortable silence. Its set up is originally meant for two but as it was built with an adjustable design they find they're able to break it in half and pull the ends apart, revealing a third piece in the center that can fold out and make just enough room for two more people.

Noticing the crampedness between the three of them, Menian tries to casually bring up the fact that they will be needing to change a few things around the warehouse.

"So.., going through the newspaper I saw we got the new catalog for IK's new year furniture line. Maybe sometime this week we can go down, and take a look around. Specifically, through the dining area..?"

"No, we don't need to go hunting out for another table since there's nothing wrong with this one. I think it suits our needs just right." Amlin points towards Menian with a fork while knocking on the wooden table.

"But I think now that we can be, you know, expecting more company, I think we should work on getting this place just a tad more, hospitable?"

"I don't think she minds the table, do you Roxanne?" asks Amlin.

"I find it perfectly acceptable. If we're eating a sandwich, that is," she quipped.

"She's just trying to use her intimidation skills to get us to buy a nicer table, Menian, don't listen to her."

"Hey, this place could use a nicer table," she retorts. "You have a record collection with a player that plays both sides of the vinyl and a massive fish tank in one of the bedrooms, it wouldn't hurt to add some flair to the dining room."

"You let her in my bedroom?" Menian asks with an incredulous look. Amlin glances from the corners of his eyes to him with guilt, giving a sideways smile that said "Oops."

"He said you'd be okay with it!" she points.

"Only because it was the only cool thing I had to offer!" Amlin counters.

"Right, because chicks don't dig guys who have Neil DeGrasse and Austen on the same shelf," she says.

Amlin stutters before being able to find his words. "You, wait, what? I was.., yeah the books.." he drones off when Menian cuts in, "He's afraid of people thinking he's a dork for having band posters up.

Roxanne has a blank look to her face as she tries to recollect seeing any posters hanging up, and finds it hard to place images to the black papers that had been tacked onto the wall opposite of the shelf. No matter how hard she thinks, her memory of last night doesn't expand past the four corners of the bed.

"You know what, I don't remember. Was too busy digging the books," she states, rolling her shoulders and giving into the food with a smug grin. Amlin isn't sure if she means what he thinks and widens his eyes before he could let the pink flush overtake his face again.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat. "Cosmo lied."

"You read cosmopolitan?" Roxanne asks with surprise.

"You saw the Austen books on his shelf, and you're surprised he reads a woman's magazine?" Menian in turn asks back.

They both turn to Amlin, expecting an answer. "What can I say? I was curious on what are the eleven traits women find irresistible in a man," he indulges, pulling into himself and drawing out choffs and snorts from the other two as they turn their attention back to the food.

The three of them can't help but smile through each bite they take, Roxanne and Amlin finding themselves kicking their feet at each other underneath the small table and Menian just watching in shared content, being absorbed by the contagious giggling the other two started.

The music flows in from the main area, words that spoke volumes to Roxanne not seeming to be as intimidating now as they were the night before when they had settled down in each others arms, falling asleep on the sofa momentarily.

~ _So all we got, baby, is one precious night._

 _All we got, is one precious night._

 _Throw your blues and shoes and things_

 _and lay it down under the bed._

 _Just wrap me up in your beautiful wings,_

 _better hear what I say, yeah.~_

"Hey, you guys mind if I change the record? Kinda want to listen to something else for a change. No offence," Roxanne asks, her hands raising in the air.

"No, go on ahead. Actually, do you mind if it's _The Killers_?" Amlin asks back, Menian giving him a raised eyebrow as his squinted eyes dart back and forth.

Amlin notices and mouthes a "what" with one shrugging shoulder. They turn to Roxanne when she asks " _Killers_?" questioningly, her hand stopping the fork in the bowl and her head giving a slight tilt to one side.

They both lower their heads as Menian replies, "Guilty pleasure?"

She stares at her dish in deep thought, moving the food around before raising her brow in surprise and taking a bite. Shrugging, she clears her mouth to explain. "Well, I just thought of you two as more of "purists" when it came to your music. But now that I think about it, I did see a couple of _Smiths_ and _Cure_ in your collection, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that if you have some neo-gothic and alternative that you actually listen to and not just own, _Killers_ would be on there too since they seem to be heavily influenced by the post-punk of back then. I mean it's labeled as new wave and revival, although some would argue it to be borderline emo, but you can clearly hear the homage to the 80's heavily laced into their songs."

She finishes the last bites of the risotto and let's out a hum through the food as she wipes her full mouth from debris, struggling to swallow fast enough to make room to speak.

"Oh! Do you guys have _Hot Fuss_ on an LP?" she asks excitedly with her eyes opening wide, pushing herself from the table and hopping across the room towards the record player.

Both Amlin and Menian stare slack-jawed at the brunette squatting in front of the records, looking through the alphabetized albums when the bigger of the two leans to the smaller man and whispers through the side of his mouth "Can we keep her?"

Amlin can't help the smile that grows on his face, his elbows propping up on the table as he brings his hands to clasp over his mouth, supporting his nose.

"I guess I _am_ awake" he laughs into his fingers.

* * *

 **It is done, I am done**

 **I sit here on the computer buffing out the scratches and hoping I caught everything that needed fixing.**  
 **Of course I can only do so much while running on a whack sleep schedule.**

 **I absolutely loved writing this. I** **f I ever get down to making anything else under this AU I don't think I will add it to this story, the whole premise of this was the group singing karaoke, right?**

 **Speaking of which,**

 **SONG NOTES!**

 **1) "Livin' on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi,** ** _Slippery When Wet_**

 **2)"Mr Brightside" by The Killers,** ** _Hot Fuss_**

 **3)"Angel" by Jimi Hendrix, TCOL (** ** _The Cry of Love)_**

 **4)"Freedom" by Jimi Hendrix, TCOL**

 **5)"In From the Storm" by Jimi Hendrix, TCOL**

 **6)"Night Bird Flying" by Jimi Hendrix, TCOL**

.

.

 **I absolutely LOVE Jimi's TCOL album, I mean the only song I have is** ** _Angel_** **and that's on his greatest hits album, but if I was to come across this baby, oh you bet your bottom dollar I'd pay for it.**

 **I find it funny that I was able to find a flow through the story, easily connecting the scenes with specific songs in the album (and in the correct order too, by god).**

 **So far it's the only album I've listened to in it's entirety, that and** ** _Citizen Cope_** **which I might end up doing on the One Shots list.**

 **And as a last note, "Wolverines" is brought in from the fabulous Setepenre-Set's, of whom is a big inspiration for me.**

 **Well, going back into my dark corner now, with m** **uch love to my lovelies. I'll be here typing away in the glow of your reviews, even if i'm miserably hacking up my lungs because this is the longest I've been sick.**

 **Hugs and kisses (with plenty of hand sanitizer),**  
 **P.C.**


End file.
